


there are two types of people

by warsfeil



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 08:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16322771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: There are two types of people in the world: people who want to be woken up from a dead sleep to hear bad news, and people who would rather turn their phones off.(The third type of person just wants some peace and quiet.)Or, "A Night in a Hotel Room with Idolish7!"





	there are two types of people

“What are you doing?” Iori asks, watching Riku move across the hotel room to check his phone where it’s plugged in against the wall. It’s the second time he’s made the short trek in the past five minutes, which would be less attention-grabbing in general if it wasn’t eleven at night and they all needed to be awake in about six hours.

“Making sure my phone isn’t on silent,” Riku says, tapping the phone until it gives him a reassuring beep in response. He sets it down, then steps back over to the bed. His group drew the short straw, and he’s squeezed in between Nagi and Iori’s frames on the mattress. 

“It’s s’posed to be on silent,” Tamaki says, sleepily, voice half-muffled in his pillow and the three he’s stolen from Sougo. “Right…?”

“If it’s on silent, I won’t know if something happens at night,” Riku says, and Sougo stops dead in the middle of trying to quietly wrestle one of his pillows back from Tamaki. Sougo drops the corner of his pillow, stepping over to the quagmire of seven cell phones all plugged into a single power strip. 

“Does it matter if something happens?” Yamato asks, propped up on his elbow to see past the expanse of Mitsuki’s hair.

“Something important could happen,” Riku offers, a little uncertainly, a little earnestly.

“Like what?” Yamato shoots back, and Mitsuki tilts his head back to frown faintly at Yamato. 

“Someone could get fired,” Sougo says. “What if someone _dies_?” Sougo’s phone also chimes delicately to signify that it’s on full volume. 

“Then you’ll get a good night’s sleep before you get bad news,” Yamato says, and immediately feels like he’s stepped on a landmine when five people look at him weirdly. (Tamaki chooses not to expend the effort; his face is buried in his pillow, and Yamato respects that as a life choice.) 

Mitsuki smacks his magazine down on the bed and rolls over to face Yamato. 

“So if I died, you’d just want to wait until morning to find out?” 

“Mitsu, if you died, I’d be the first to know because you sleep next to--” Yamato starts, and then stops, because there’s a certain younger brother radiating an aura of displeasure that intensifies with every word that Yamato says, and he scrabbles for a moment to recalibrate his brain to that of a normal, emotionally adjusted human. “I mean, I’d be devastated?”

“Why did you phrase it as a _question_ ,” Mitsuki says, his question phrased as a demand as he reaches up and shoves Yamato’s face into the pillow -- but gently, because the last thing they need is an emergency of the “Yamato’s last pair of glasses broke” variety on the night before they’re shooting away from home. 

“I’m going to set my phone, too,” Iori says, sighing and sliding to the end of the crowded bed so he can go over to the phones.. “Nanase-san, you shouldn’t keep yours on, your sleep is important to your health.”

“If your phone goes off, I’m going to wake up anyway!” Riku argues. 

“What if someone important to you died,” Mitsuki says, jabbing Yamato hard enough in the ribs that it hurts just a little. “You’d just want to _sleep in_?”

“I’d be better prepared for bad news on a good night’s sleep!” Yamato objects. “Besides, almost everyone I care about is already in this room.”

“Sou-chan, if anyone dies in the night, you’ll tell me, right?” Tamaki mumbles into his pillow.

“No one’s going to die,” Sougo replies, well-versed in his ability at translating all dialects of Tamaki-speak. Sougo pauses, and then looks at Riku, who breaks off his eye contact with Iori.

“Why are you looking at me when you say “die”!”

“You’re the most likely of any of us to die, Nanase-san.”

“I’m not even--” Riku starts, and then breaks off into a cough, which causes the room to go dead silent as everyone redirects their focus onto Riku.

Mitsuki leaves his finger where it is, jabbed between Yamato’s rib cage, which turns out to be a bad move: the door to their hotel room slams open a moment later to show an irritated Tenn Kujo and an exasperated Tsumugi, her hair drawn up in a ponytail. All seven of them jump, and Mitsuki’s finger presses in a little harder than he meant. 

“Ow,” Yamato says, but quietly, because Tenn looks like he’s out for blood and Yamato doesn’t want any of that rage redirected his way.

“It’s. Late,” Tenn says, watching the way Riku’s hand goes over his mouth as his frame shakes slightly in a terrible attempt at covering his cough.

“I’m sure they were discussing something important!” Tsumugi says. “Like -- rehearsing?”

Tenn looks at the room and crosses his arms expectantly.

“We were discussing people dying,” offers Tamaki, with absolutely no regard for self-preservation.

Tsumugi’s expression freezes in place, and Yamato feels a pang of guilt: sorry we let you down, manager, it turns out we’re all just a little bad at everything.

“Oh,” Tsumugi says.

Tenn walks over and grabs Riku’s phone off the pile, tossing it into Riku’s bag. 

“Tenn-nii, what are you--”

“Your room is too crowded and too loud, so I’m removing the problem,” Tenn says. His voice is irritated and abrasive, but the way he slings Riku’s bag over his shoulder and then holds a hand out expectantly tempers the entire situation. “Come on. Our room is larger.”

“But I’m staying with everyone else,” Riku protests, even as he reaches out to take Tenn’s hand and allow himself to be lead out of the room. 

Iori’s doing that aura of death thing again, so Yamato focuses instead on rubbing the spot where Mitsuki had poked him too hard.

“How many beds do you guys have?” Riku asks.

“Three,” Tenn answers, voice becoming quieter with distance as the door across the hall opens.

“Am I staying with y--” Riku’s voice starts to ask, but is cut off by the door closing. 

“Um, anyway!” Tsumugi says, cheerful even in the face of her band creating their own problems. “It’s late, so everyone try to get some sleep…!”

“We’ll be quiet,” Iori promises, and the face he makes instills within everyone the distinct idea that it’s a threat more than anything else.

“Okay,” Tsumugi says, stepping backwards back out of the doorway. “Goodnight, everyone!”

Their chorus of _goodnight_ back at her leads into them all slowly filtering to lay down properly, Iori clicking the lights off. Tamaki’s the first one out, and Yamato waits about three minutes after the room has gone dark and quiet.

“Hey,” Yamato says, because he craves the taste of death, “you made sure not to take my phone off silent, right?”

Mitsuki hits him with a pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> this entire fanfic is based on a conversation that i actually had in person with a [friend at a convention](https://twitter.com/rokutosei/status/1052370262296055808) that we abruptly realized was just Sougo and Yamato. 
> 
> unsurprisingly, i was the Yamato. i'm sure you're all _shocked_.


End file.
